


pistols drawn at dawn

by stuffandsundry



Series: right before your eyes [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brainwashed!Jack, Gen, Minor Character Death, gabe is jesses longsuffering dad, jesse is a theater nerd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 13:52:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7576414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuffandsundry/pseuds/stuffandsundry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>McCree's not dead.</p><p>Which begs the question: what the hell has he been up to?</p>
            </blockquote>





	pistols drawn at dawn

**MCCREE-**

 

Y'know what you really miss about Blackwatch? The _food_.

 

...Well, okay. There’s no need to go that far. The food was awful, just terrible. But man if there wasn't a lot of it! All the time, too. Blackwatch never ran outta food or made you eat crap. You poke at the dubious meat on your plate. You were never a great cook, but this takes the cake. Might be for the best to just chuck it, at this point. You can’t afford to get food poisoning- nobody around to hold your hat if you gotta puke your guts out.

 

It’s odd to have no one around to talk to. Deadlock was loud and chaotic and kept you on your toes or otherwise someone might shoot'em off, and Blackwatch was all quiet ‘cept for the fact you _knew_ there were people around to watch your six even if they didn’t make much noise when they walked. You don’t remember livin’ anyhow other than that. (A single mem'ry- a woman’s hand, calloused cracked but gentle, runs through your hair. You laugh, and so does she. S'all.)

 

You scrape the battered chair back and stand up to stretch, chucklin’ to yourself. Oooo, lookit you. Gettin’ all sentimental again. Mayhap it’s time to move on, like how the commander said.

 

_Gotta keep movin’. Can’t trust no one. Avoid Overwatch._

 

* * *

**A LITTLE LESS THAN A YEAR AGO**

 

“McCree! I want you in my office _yesterday_!”

 

You drop all your cards and groan in dismay. He’s gotta be kidding, right? This is the first good hand you’ve gotten this entire game, and that’s _with_ you cheatin’ like a cardsharp! What kinda shit-rotten luck…

 

“Better _mosey on down there, cowboy_ ,” laughs (Lee? Lowe? hadn’t worked with him 'nough to remember) one of the other players. “The bossman sounds pissed.”

 

You flip off the entire table off with both hands. Jackasses, the lot of them. Raucous laughter follows you down the hall. When you reach the commander’s office, though, you’ve got both thumbs tucked into your belt loops, saunterin’ as if you haven’t got a care in the world. You nudge the ajar door a lil wider and lean casually against the frame.

 

“Yo, old man, what'cha need me fo-” is all that gets out of your mouth before Reyes grabs you by the neckerchief and pulls you the rest of the way into the room. He closes the door behind him, and all of the little noises of life you’re used to being in the background are choked out. The only sound left is the soft hum of the lights, as Reyes grabs you by the shoulders.

 

Not gonna lie, you’re seriously fuckin’ freaked at this point.

 

“McCree.” Ohhhh boy, that’s a bad sign. He’s using his missions voice, which usually means shit’s gone so far south it’s reached Antarctica. Now’s not the time for jokes on your part. “How much do you trust me?”

 

That’s a funny question for Reyes to ask. But for you, the answer ain’t even something you need to think about. “Yeah. I mean, I do. Trust you. I trust you a lot.”

 

Fuck, maybe you shoulda thought about it for a moment. That was embarassin’ as all hells. But it was honest, which seems to be what the commander was lookin’ for. He loosens his grip just a smidge.

 

“Good. Because I need you to leave Blackwatch and never come back.”

 

What?

 

“Leave Blackwatch?” You’re honestly gobsmacked right now. He can’t mean… “Like,'i need you to go undercover so fake your death again’ leave or 'leave' leave?”

 

Please let it be the first one, please let it be the first one...

 

He shakes his head. “I need you to leave, for real. Don’t contact any members of Blackwatch or Overwatch. Keep moving around, and don’t stop in any area for too long. And don’t trust anyone who claims that they’ve got new orders from me.”

 

Okay, you’ll play along. “Right, what’s my objective?”

 

 _When can I come home?_ you almost say.

 

He hesitates. “You don’t… necessarily have one. Or maybe a better way to describe it would be that your objective is to survive.”

 

What the _fuck_. This can’t be an official mission. There’s no fucking way. Your voice rises heatedly.

 

“Old man, what the hell? Hey, if ya wanna be rid of me so bad-”

 

“No! No, that’s not it.” The commander takes off his beanie and runs his hand through short-cropped hair. He sighs. “It’s going to pieces, Jesse. I want you out of here when everything blows up in our faces.”

 

“Old man, I think ya need to siddown and breathe for a sec, and then mebbe explain like a normal person-”

 

“Lacroix killed Ana.”

 

Your mind screeches to a halt. Lacroix? Lacroix’s dead. Unless there’s a cousin you don’t know about, or- Amelie? But she’s not- she’s not a combatant, she couldn’t take down Ana _fuckin_ Amari…

 

Reyes goes on like he hasn’t noticed your troubled face. “That’s not the worst part. Lacroix’s not the same anymore, they did something to her- her skin in those photos was blue, and I don’t think it was photoshopped- and the UN _knows_ about it.” He spits out a curse. “They knew about it, and instead of sending a rescue mission they sent a team to steal the data.”

 

“Maybe they wanted to see if they could find a way to fix it first.” Your counterargument sounds weak, even to you.

 

Reyes snorts. “I fucking wish. No, apparently they’ve been reverse-engineering it. They want to test it on someone- they’ve got a guy picked out already, someone from Overwatch. I haven’t been able to find a name, but… ” He trails off. When he starts talking again, he’s quieter, as if someone might hear him through the soundproof walls.

 

“If they’re willing to start brainwashing Overwatch agents, they’re going to look towards Blackwatch too. A team- no, an army of emotionless, obedient killers. Even if I don’t have any evidence that that’s where we’re headed, it’s going to be where we end up, I know it.”

 

You do too, and it makes you sick to your stomach. “Then whyd'ya want me to leave, then? I gotta watch your back-”

 

He cuts you off with a shake of his head.

 

“No- I need you to get out of here. I need to know that there’s somebody on the outside who I can trust, someone who I can call on if things go really shitfaced and I have to get people out. They’ll probably come for you before they come for me, too. If that happens- Please, Jesse.”

 

Your voice doesn’t tremble at all. Anyone who thinks otherwise is a liar and not to be trusted.

 

“You can count on me, Commander.”

 

He smiles briefly. A real smile, not a smirk or nothin’.

 

“I am.”

 

* * *

 

 

You’ve done good, you think. Most of the names that you remember from your Deadlock days aren’t worth a dime no more, but you’ve been able to get in touch with some contacts here and there. You have a safehouse in Arkansas, and another down in Louisiana. Not bad for what, eight months?

 

But it can still be better. You wanna see Reyes’ jaw drop when he sees what you’ve been able to come up with.

 

 

* * *

 

**TWO WEEKS LATER**

 

You’re holed up in a lil hick town somewhere up near Colorado. All they really get in the way of news is from the airwaves, even now. You figure it should be safe enough to drop by for a bit to restock. It might be a good idea to hide a stockpile or summat up in the mountains near here too.

 

The general store’s rather crowded, but nobody glances in your direction when you enter. Everyone’s gathered around a massive, antique radio near the back wall. The signal’s awful on account of a storm front, so there’s more static than words. But dammit, you’re curious now. What’s going on? You edge closer to try listen in.

 

> “ _kshhhhhsshhhh… erwatch headquarters in Switzer… shshshsh… explosion, dozens dead or trapped. Reports… kkkkshh… orrison’s body… kkkkkkkkshhhhhhshsh… Blackwatch commander Gabriel Reyes… ssssshhhhhh…  trial held in three days._ ”

 

Nobody’s paying attention to you as you slip out the door again. You try to light a cigar, but your hands are shaking way too bad and with a curse you drop the match and scuff it out on the dirt.

 

There’s a sick hollow grief in the pit of your belly. The last time you felt like this was-

 

(Two more shots ring out, and old June drops to the ground with a wet thud too. You reach over and try to pull her back up, c'mon movemovemove dammit! but she grabs your hand first and pulls you closer. “Jess,” she chokes out, blood bubbling out of her lips, “Jess, they ain’t no rival gang, they’re the real deal. You gotta git on outta here. Run, J-" 

And that’s when the sniper takes her head off.

When you’re cuffed and kneeling in front of the faceless Blackwatch agents later, you still got blood smeared all over your front, cold and tacky.)

 

You can’t stay here.

 

 _Run, Jess_.

 

You run.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s been a month now, nearing two. You haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep in forever, and you musta been all up and down the Midwest by now. But you can’t stop, even if you want to.

 

 _Gotta keep movin’. Can’t trust no one. Avoid Overwatch_.

 

The commander’s dead, for sure. You’ve been mostly off the grid for the past weeks, but that first radio- they said he blew up Overwatch. Woulda been executed for that.

 

What do you do now? Follow the last set of orders he gave you?

 

(Even though it’s all worthless now, why didn’t he ask for your help? He didnt ask for your help you shoulda stayed to watch his back you didnt and now he’s dead, dead, dead.)

 

What else _can_ you do?

 

Right now, you’re taking a breather in an old shack in one of the Dakotas, not sure which. You’re gonna keel over, you’re so _tired_. Every time you hear people you take off again, but you can’t keep this up for much longer-

 

What was that sound?

 

You tense. There shouldn’t be anyone for miles around. But you coulda sworn you just heard a footstep crunching through the gravel.

 

Your hand doesn’t stray far from your gun most days now. You slide it out of the holster and cock it. The sharp click and your beatin’ heart are the only things you hear, but you know that there was someone out there.

 

Steppin’ real gentle-like, you take cover next to the doorway. The walls of the shack are still whole, more-or-less, and the sun’s in your favor. Hidden in the shadows like this, you’ll see them coming 'fore they see you.

 

And as the world around grows quiet like it can sense the tension in the air, you see in the room with you

 

outta the corner of your eyes (you must be mistaken)

 

the shadow of a hand (claw, that’s a claw)

 

with nothing to cast it (demon)

 

You twist and fire, but it’s too late.

 

A mass of shadow like a thundercloud swirls up and slams you to the ground, knocking the breath right out of you. Gasping for air on your back, you think that this is it. This is where you die. You squeeze your eyes shut

 

**…**

**…**

**…**

 

You’re not dead. Huh.

 

You gingerly open one eye. You’d really rather that this demon-guy or whatever get on with it. The anticipation is killin’ ya. Just as you’re about to speak, though-

 

” **… You’re a hard man to track down, McCree.** “

 

And this is when alarm bells start to go off like crazy. First of all, this shadow knows your name and can speak. Not great. Second, it’s voice is creepy echoey, like it’s shouting at you from the other end of a sewer. A little terrifying, to be honest. But here's the kicker: if you listen to it, _really_ listen, then its voice.

 

Its voice is _familiar_.

 

And you realize that it’s holding you down now with arms settled from the smoke, and the wisps framing where the head would be are folding into a face you know. The face of someone you’ve been mourning over the past few weeks.

 

And you get angry, because

 

_how dare it_

 

How dare it use a dead man’s face to taunt you? Did it think it would make you _hesitate_? You snarl and headbutt it right in the fucking forehead. _Guess again, bitch._

 

Unfazed, it chuckles hollowly.

 

” **Same old Jesse-** “

 

"I don’t give a shit if you’re trying to kill me, demon, but DON’T YOU DARE- _DON'T YOU FUCKING **DARE**_ USE HIS FACE!”

 

It’s grip loosens. You shove it off and scramble a few feet away. Gun gun gun, where’s your gun? …Of course it fell behind the monster. Of course it did. Fuck. You’re unarmed, you’ve seriously pissed it off, why are you not dead yet oh god.

 

The monster is still kneeling in the same position. “ **Do I really look like a demon?** ” it wonders, staring at its claw thoughtfully. Its shape is more or less stable now, and it’s weird and wrong to be looking at a creature that looks almost exactly like your old commander but not quite… human.

 

“I don’t know where you’ve been skulking all your life, but where I come from humans don’t have eyes like laser sights and smoke like they’re on fire.”

 

It chuckles. “ **I suppose you’re right.** ” It sits back on its heels. “ **Maybe I should have expected this. Heh. So, McCree, what _would_ convince you that I’m actually Gabriel Reyes?**”

 

Your first instinct is to tell it to go to hell. But as the silence lengthens, and it's smokey form settles- It's him. If it weren't for the eyes, and some new scars- And- and it's not trying to kill you or anything, just looking at you the way that the commander did when he had to solve a tricky problem. Your throat’s dry. You know that it’s lying (but what if he’s not) and that the Commander is dead (you never heard it confirmed) and every fiber of your body is screaming that it's a trap, it's the most fucking obvious trap you have ever seen, don't you dare fall for this amateur hour shit, but. _What if_.

 

_What if it's actually him?_

 

It’s just slightly **off**.

 

But.

 

so _close_ , it has his mannerisms down to a tee

 

If there’s a chance that he's not- that he's not dead-

 

You swallow roughly. “Then-” you croak out. You’re scrambling. Something that nobody else would know, something that Gabe wouldn’t ever tell anyone-

 

(you think he's going to kill you, you fucked up you got everyone killed Jodie Tatsumi Danny Zee theyre all dead and you could swear that Commander Reyes is going to kill you too, and you would deserve it but youre scared and the only thing keeping you from bolting is the fact that they wouldnt have fitted a dead man for a prosthetic)

 

“The day after- The day after I got fitted with a new hand. What did you give me?”

 

It sits there. Unmoving. You’re beginning to regret asking, what did you fucking tell yourself, you idiot, it was lying it’s still lying just playing with you before it rips your heart out, when it talks. Slow and uncertain, as if dragging a memory out from the shadows that it hasn’t thought about in a decade. Your heart beats faster at its answer.

 

“ **We were in my office… and… a bullet? No, I gave you a shotgun shell. Because… because…** ”

 

“Your team is dead, and you’re missing an arm. I won’t lie to you, you should be dead too. But you’re alive, somehow. Congratulations. You only get to fuck up like this once in your life, McCree. Make sure that it never happens again.” You quote. A wry twist curls your mouth. “You gave me the shell because you said that if I ever tried something that stupid twice you’d shoot me before I got myself killed. A promise, of sorts.”

 

And by god, you tried to make yourself worthy of that chance. You understood that you wouldn't get another.

 

“ **You were such an arrogant little shit back then.** ” It’s eyes dim, like they’re half-closed. “ **You and everyone else on that team- I thought that it might have become something great, in time. But then…** ”

 

“…But then I fucked up.” You finish its thought softly.

 

“ _ **No!**_ ” You flinch back, what did you say wrong? It’s eyes flare up again and it rushes forward like a sheet flapping in the wind and wraps around you. Pain fails to come.

 

Huh.

 

You think you might be getting hugged?

 

“ **No, Jesse, that’s not- You were all of twenty years old, fuck, I forgot that you were still just a kid. God damn, I thought you knew- it’s not your fault, kid. Wasn’t your fault they died.** ”

 

Shit.

 

You’re not- you’re not _crying_ , dammit! His words aren’t what you expected, but you think you’ve always wanted to hear them, in your heart of hearts. Fuck. You don’t think you care if it- if he’s a copy of Gabriel or just something that has his memories or something. It’s enough that you could imagine that it’s him, telling you that everything is alright. The stress you've deliberately not been acknowledging for the past few weeks comes crashing down on you, and you can't summon the energy to be wary anymore. You're exhausted and numb and please, let this be the end of it.

 

It _could_ be him. And for now, that’s enough for you.

 

“Fuck, pops…” you say, muffled slightly by the smoke. “You coulda told me that you were alive.” If he says anything in response, it’s too soft to hear. The two of you stay there for some time, even after you’ve stopped shaking. Of all things, it’s the wind that rouses you two, blowing mournfully through the open door of the hovel.

 

Gabriel looks up and wrinkles his nose. “ **This shack looks like it’ll fall over in a stiff breeze. I found an old farmhouse a few miles over to the east while looking for you. We can head there for the night.** ”

 

You frown. “There’s no real cover in the area. That’ll take forever and a day if we have to be cautious.”

 

“ **Nobody’s around, Jesse. I know-ah. Right. It appears that I can see, ehhhh, life force? That’s a thing, now. So believe me when i say there are no humans around for miles.** ”

 

You shake your head. Ain’t that the damnest notion? It’s going to take some time to get used to, that’s for sure. You stand up and brush off your pants. “Well, lead the way then, bossman.”

 

—////—

 

The walk with Reyes is essentially silent the entire way there, which is great. It lets you get your thoughts in order. You determinedly ignore the fact that you just tried to shoot him and then cried all over his shoulder. It’s Reyes (you think), he’s seen you do worse. And he’s _alive_ (kinda, you're not sure). That’s something you didn’t dare hope for. But there’s a part of you that still tenses up when he moves too suddenly, a part of you that screeches _That thing is no longer human!_ when you look at him. He probably knows you still aren’t comfortable with him, you think morosely. It’s honestly a little hard to miss the way you still tend to get twitchy around him.

 

And even if you want to talk to him, what do you say?

 

Thank god you aren’t dead?

 

Where have you been, you asshole?

 

Why are you all smokey?

 

_What happened to you?_

 

You’re so lost in thought that you nearly walk into him when he stops in his tracks in front of the porch.

 

“ **We’re here, if you haven’t noticed.** ” he states blandly. You squint at him. He’s fucking laughing at you, you know it. You walk off in a huff to go explore the house.

 

The farmhouse _is_ nicer than the shack, you’re forced to admit. There’s actually working doors in the place, for one. It’s not great, but it’ll do. You’ve slept in worse, these past months.

 

Reyes says that he can take the entire night’s watch- he doesn’t need to sleep now either, apparently. When you wake the next morning, before the sun has started to show, he’s sitting on the fence outside with one knee pulled up to his chest. The only way he acknowledges your presence as you clamber up next to him is a tiny barely-there nod. You sit there with him in comfortable silence.

 

Just kidding. You're bored now.

 

“You should get a mask.” You muse out loud. Reyes scoffs.

 

“ **And hide this pretty face?** ”

 

“Aw, c'mon Pops. 'Face of yours could make children weep.” You lean over and poke his cheek for emphasis. A quarter-sized area of his face vanishes into black smoke, and you sorta freeze for a second, fuck fuck fuck you fucked up that’s too far. You let out a tiny sigh of relief when his face breaks into a small smirk. It looks odd on his face, like he hasn’t had cause to smile for some time and is sorta rusty.

 

“ **Well damn, I’m sorry for making you cry, then.** ” … Asshole.

 

“Pfft. Take a hike, old man. I’m being serious. A mask or something might be a help 'til ya figure out a means to contain yer royal smokiness. Even better- a skull mask! Really play up the whole 'rahh, your soul is mine’ thing.”

 

He looks thoughtful. “ **I _was_ already planning on getting some sort of covering for my face. I’m going to need it if I’m going to get back to work. You think so too?**” He snorts. “ **Someone help me, I’m taking fashion advice from a cowboy.** ”

 

“Shut up, y'all are just jealous of my amazing hat,” you laugh. Then the first part of what he said clicks and you stop. “Goin’ back to work? Reyes, you can’t be serious. That’s- they had you killed.”

 

“ **They did.** ”

 

“Overwatch is disbanded.”

 

“ **Yeah.** ”

 

“Blackwatch too.”

 

“ **As far as I know.** ”

 

“Commander Morrison’s dead.”

 

“ **No. He’s not.** ”

 

“They- wait, _what_?”

 

“ **Jack isn’t dead. They didn’t find a body because he was taken. Not dead.”** He turns and looks at you. **“I’m going to find him.** ”

 

It’s quiet for a long minute. You know what he’s asking you. But this decision isn’t to be made lightly-

 

Aw, who’re you fooling? There was only one acceptable answer from the start.

 

You lean back and flash him your best devil-may-care smile. “'I’? Think you mean 'we’, Pops.”

 

He looks at you like he didn’t expect you to say yes. “ **Jesse, I-** ”

 

“Nope. I’m stickin' with you.” _This time_ , lays unspoken between you. You left him with nobody to watch his back and he died. You won’t make the same mistake twice.

 

You understand you won't get another chance.

 

Reyes chooses not to argue with you, instead looking back at the horizon. Sun’s coming up soon, you note.

 

“ **…You’re going to have to get a new costume then. Jesse McCree showing up with a new buddy out of the blue will draw unwanted attention.** ”

 

Your smile widens in triumph. “Nahhhh, you underestimate me. We’re gonna set you up as a mercenary first. Build a reputation. And then we can meet in public and get off on the wrong foot, have some dramatic battles -until a certain job where we have to work together and discover that we work better as a team than as enemies. It’ll be great, trust me.”

 

“ **That is the stupidest cliche movie plot I’ve ever heard, can’t you just…you just don’t want to get rid of that outfit, don’t you.** ”

 

“I haven’t gotten to pick out my own clothing in years. Fuck you, I’m going to dress like a cowboy and you can’t stop me.” You snort. “And speaking of unwanted attention, it’s not as if we can keep calling you Gabriel Reyes either. You’re going to have to choose a new name, Pops.”

 

“ **…I’m going to regret this, but. What do you have in mind?** ”

 

You start grinning like a loon. “I already toldja, old man. Play up the whole death theme. So… hmm. Vampire. Reaper. Hellhound. Eclipse. Death. No, wait. Death Blossom, that’s better-”

 

He puts his head in his hands. “ **Please- just stop. Let’s just go with… Reaper, then.** ”

 

“Mhm.” Your grin widens. “I dunno, though. Some of those other names might be more fitting. Like, say, Death Blosso-”

 

Reyes reaches over to shove you off the fence. As you lie on the grass in the grey pre-dawn, still laughin’ your head off, you think that everything’s gonna be just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> LESS ANGST! I WAS GOING FOR LESS ANGST! did it work??? hahaha this chapter was so long fuck. its like four thousand words what the fuck its the longest thing ive ever written
> 
> I figured that we could use something other than Gabe’s POV for once. So have some McCree, and copious misuse of flashback! Next installment for sure will have 76 POV, tho. It’s gonna be, hm. Interesting. really gonna have to take my time with that. I really mean it, dont expect anything for a week this time. Theres a fucking plot to this story now, I have to sit down and hash it all out. put it on paper, you know?
> 
> the thing about the arm- i think that mccree was very cocky for his early blackwatch career. he wasn’t careful enough and got his squad killed and his arm blown off like three years in? afterwards though, he started shaping up. took gabes advice seriously and got to the point where he was someone who could be trusted as gabe’s second in command. gabe yelling at him was mostly because gabe forgot, like actually forgot that he wasnt working with trained professionals. He’s more pissed with himself than with jesse, tbh. He hadnt been training the operatives under his command from the ground up, and was just assuming that they could do the basics.
> 
> did i create an OC for the sole purpose of creating a parallel between McCrees exit from deadlock and his exit from blackwatch? who do you take me for. of course. honestly, i came up with a bunch of headcanons for old June, but im not gonna put them here lmao. Some tidbits about here that are relevant tho: she taught baby mccree how to shoot, and mccree thought of her as his Ma but never realized that she was infact his biological mother. the first tiny flashback of the woman’s hand? that was her. Shes cool.
> 
> McCree, at this point, has a lil bit of a survivor’s guilt thing. People keep dyin on him. Is he cursed??? its another reason he was so quick to believe that Gabe had come back, because that would mean that he didn’t get another person he cared for killed. It'll take some time for him to be wholly convinced that it’s actually gabe. Hes still sort of thining that hes deluding himself as of right now, that reaper is just a failed experiment that absorbed reyes' memories or something. But just know that after a year or so and some serious discussion about feelings, they’re more or less fine. Not fantastic, but fine.
> 
> to me, mccree would absolutely have been a theater nerd back in school (if he'd gone). He's all about the presentation, this one. It was a talent he put to use a lot in Blackwatch- improvised plans, acting. He lived for it. The cowboy thing was something he chose to make himself look harmless, because haha look he think hes a cowb-urk. It was v effective. XD
> 
> mccree only calls reyes commander in his own head, rarely anywhere else. he doesnt show respect really well, but if you have it then you have it forever. fuck whatever the media says, he didnt believe for a second that reyes actually bombed overwatch. To me, it’s like Gabe acts like a father to McCree. They’re family.
> 
> one of the reasons that UN originally made Gabe blackwatch commander is that he’s awful with people. He gets kinda impatient and yells, but he’s also way better at strategy. Jack’s the people person. So there were sorta kinda legit reasons that he got Blackwatch, a bunch of criminals that need to be managed and sometimes yelled at, while Jack gets to deal with politicians and the media. Not saying racism wasn’t a part, but there was enough actual reasoning that the original founders couldn’t call them out for it in public. (also, their different personalities made them an absolutely killer team. gabe came up with the crazy ideas, and jack was the one who convinced people to do them. jesse fulfills a similar role for gabe, and ana for morrison)
> 
> i just realized how MUCH of this fic is based on my own headcanon. fucking shitty brain, why do you do this???
> 
> the concept is vickjawn's! Check out their brainwashed!morrison tag, on tumblr for more good shit yo
> 
> original draft: http://stuffandsundry.tumblr.com/post/147814906267/pistols-drawn-at-dawn


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